


Like Us, You Mean

by Rheaird_of_Life



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 13:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18801694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheaird_of_Life/pseuds/Rheaird_of_Life
Summary: Continuation of 206, possible spoilers for 207





	Like Us, You Mean

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm an impatient bitch who can't wait a week and because I didn't want to work on my other fic as per usual. :p

She hasn't seen or heard from Villanelle since last night, since their first real mission together. Their first and potentially _last_ mission together. Eve can't handle the thought of losing Villanelle so soon after getting her. She can't handle the last communication between them being Villanelle's playful, though totally inappropriate attempt at flirting via text message. Most of all though, she can't handle the thought of never getting to see Villanelle work again.

When she casually tossed Amber's caretaker in front of the truck, Eve was at first surprised and horrified, like any sane person would be. But after the initial shock wore off, she had felt admiration. Admiration for Villanelle being able to do the things Eve longed to do more and more these days. And beyond that, perhaps even more shameful, she had felt aroused. When Villanelle sent her those flowers, she had heated up like a hormonal teenager sharing their first kiss with a crush. It paled in comparison to how she felt watching Villanelle murder someone. She felt like she would self combust on the spot, and had quickly made her way to the bathroom shortly thereafter, while everyone else in the cafe had rushed outside.

So now here she was outside of Villanelle's new London digs the next morning after she left Villanelle alone to cool off. She didn't have a plan or a real reason for being here beyond wanting to see her. It was a dangerous combination of things. If she didn't have a mission to hide behind, what else might occur between them?

Eve steadies herself and thinks of Niko fucking the brunette haired bitch in missionary for his requisite three minutes, then pulls out her phone and calls Villanelle. She probably should have checked first to make sure she was even here, but she had barely slept and was already half way here on the subway before the thought even crossed her mind.

The phone keeps ringing and ringing though, Eve's irritation at being ignored increasing with every second. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the spare key Carolyn gave her to Villanelle's place. It was meant to only be used in emergencies, and not on a whim, lest she incur Villanelle's ire.

Eve doesn't give a shit though. Villanelle's broken into her house at least twice that she's aware of, and the last time she messed with her stuff. Thankfully it wasn't nearly as destructive as her own attack on Paris. Eve doesn't have much patience for cleaning. She doesn't plan to retaliate in kind, but if Villanelle isn't home, she might get the urge anyway since she's being ignored.

For whatever reason she feels compelled to tiptoe up the stairs to the main part of the fully furnished and spacious flat. It's far nicer than the one in Paris, and not for the first time Eve wonders how they're finding the budget for their self proclaimed expensive asset.

She's barely up the stairs before she's freezing in shock and then fury. Villanelle's here all right. She's in bed, sleeping, with a stupid smile on her face. She's also lying in-between two attractive twenty-something women. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they had gotten up to last night. Apparently everyone - except for maybe Kenny, the _real_ Kenny – was getting some. Logically, she knows she has no right to be mad. They weren't together in that way. She had made sure of it time and time again. But now with the way things were with Niko...she had thought maybe...maybe it _was_ time to stop denying herself this one simple pleasure. Well, simple might not be the right word for it. Nothing that involved Villanelle was simple.

She knows the smart move here is to leave, just go before Villanelle ever even knows she 'broke in'. But she can't help herself when she moves closer instead, pulled towards Villanelle like there's an invisible rope connecting them, like there's an anchor dragging her down to her level. And now she's standing at the foot of the bed, hands balled into fists, an urge to murder thrumming in her veins. She's not sure whether she'd rather murder Villanelle or the other women, or all of them, not unlike her previous altercation with Niko and Gemma.

Almost as if Villanelle can sense her presence, her eyes suddenly pop open, and they share a look for a moment, daggers against indifference, the latter quickly morphing into apparent amusement.

Villanelle raises an eyebrow and says, “You look constipated, Eve. Have you been getting enough fibre?”

“What is this?” she asks angrily, gesturing to the other women.

“I guess you could say we had a party or something,” returns Villanelle cheekily, still completely unperplexed by the situation.

“You _know_ what I mean.”

By this point, her loud voice finally rouses one of the women, and she complains about the noise and then snuggles into Villanelle's side more thoroughly.

Eve never considered herself a jealous person until the last few days, but now it seems like the slightest thing sets her off with almost overwhelming envy.

The fact that she's an open book right now and Villanelle is greedily soaking up the pages isn't helping matters. She needs to get out of here, and fast, before she says or does something she will regret.

“You know what, never mind. I don't know what I was thinking coming here, thinking that you...”

_Shut up!_

Villanelle's eyes light up at that almost slip up even more. “Thinking that I _what_ , Eve?”

She shoots Villanelle another dark look and then stomps as loudly as she can towards the exit.

“Real mature, Eve!” calls Villanelle.

Eve's nearly out the heavy steel door when it's pressed close again, a familiar weight on her back. She can't help the hitch of breath at Villanelle's proximity, or the obvious fact that she's wearing very little.

“They didn't mean anything to me,” says Villanelle, lips ghosting her ear. “I was upset about failing the mission last night. I needed to blow off some steam. I thought you would appreciate this more than me killing them. Or maybe not? Maybe you would have rather I left you another present? I could still do it. _We_ could still-”

“Enough!” yells Eve, as much to silence Villanelle as to stop her own impulses from taking distinct design.

She turns around to face her, and that's a big mistake because now they're entirely too close again, like in the kitchen, only this time Villanelle's hair is all mussed, either from sleep or sex, or both, and she's only got a barely tied together robe in place. And it would be all too easy to unwrap her, run her hands up her stomach and onto her-

Also like in the kitchen, Villanelle's gaze flits back and forth between her lips and eyes. If it hadn't been for the two harlots upstairs, she'd probably have said fuck it and finally taken the plunge into complete insanity.

“Fuck whoever you want,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I don't care.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” says Villanelle in her usual childish way. Then she's serious and seemingly sincere. “You know, I waited for you, in Amsterdam, and you never showed.”

Eve doesn't get what that has to do with their current situation.

“I keep waiting and waiting for you, Eve, but you never budge. You're so stubborn. You refuse to see what's right in front of you. You'd rather keep fucking your husband. Do you think of me when you do? Do you pretend it's me touching you?”

Clearly she's not doing enough to remain unaffected by their proximity and her words because Villanelle smirks ever so slightly and continues, “You do, don't you? You didn't have to pretend, Eve. All you had to do was ask.”

Eve's on the verge of doing just that when Villanelle steps back, let's her breathe finally.

She takes a few seconds to calm her thundering heart and then admits something stupid and something that will likely get her into trouble again.

“We split up.”

She's expecting some sign of pleasure or anticipation or something...but there's nothing, just Villanelle's now cold demeanor. And what the fuck?

“I know.”

“You...you know? But you still...” she glances towards the stairs then back to Villanelle. She hates that she feels a sudden urge to cry, like she's just caught her lover being unfaithful. She's far more upset now than when she saw Niko and Gemma together at the school. “Why?”

Villanelle looks at her like she's nothing special at all, like she's a bug to be squashed, and the feeling only intensifies.

“If I had asked you to come, would you have? Or would you have just ignored me again like you did with my hilarious texts?”

She doesn't respond. She can't. She's afraid that if she tries to talk right now she'll start crying. And she can't afford to let Villanelle know she has that much power over her. Not now. Not if Villanelle doesn't actually care about her like she thought.

“That's what I thought,” says Villanelle disdainfully. “You just take, take, take. I needed someone to _give_ for once. And I knew you wouldn't be willing. I don't think you'll _ever_ be willing.”

That was totally unfair and she wants to rebuke her, but still can't manage to safely form words.

Villanelle sizes her up, clearly still waiting for something, and when she doesn't get it, adds, “You know...I meant what I said before. I _am_ always bored out of my mind.” Villanelle pauses a beat before sticking the dagger in further. “Except when I'm with you.”

The implication of course was that Eve _did_ in fact make her feel something other than nothing, which just made this 'betrayal' even worse in Eve's mind.

“Oksana...” she chokes out, barely containing the emotion threatening to burst forth. She reaches out a shaking hand towards her face and then-

“Oh, sorry,” says a voice at the top of the stairs, “I didn't realize she was still here.”

Villanelle's face had morphed into slight surprise at Eve's attempted repeated gesture, but the moment the silver haired bimbo spoke, her features snapped back into their usual unreadable and unnerving way and Villanelle had grabbed her wrist and kept her hand at bay.

Her eyes never leave Eve's as she shouts, “It's fine, she was just leaving!” Quieter, “Weren't you, Eve?” She holds out her other hand. “Oh and I'd like the key, please.”

“No,” she manages, blinking back the tears. She clutches the metal in her pocket tightly, until it's cutting into her palm.

“Excuse me?” says Oksana, arching another brow, dropping her wrist.

She clears her throat, finds some hidden resolve and states, “If you're going to keep coming into my home without my consent, I'll keep coming into yours.”

“I'm done with that,” Villanelle says haughtily.

“What?” she sputters.

Villanelle holds herself up to her full height. “I don't foresee any reason to visit _you_ again.”

It's like a swift slap to the face and she reacts in kind. “Fine,” she practically snarls, dropping the key to the floor and slamming the door.

 

*

 

That night when she's tossing and turning, alone in her bed for the third night in a row, she hears a nearby creaking and snaps her eyes open, instantly alert.

The figure freezes at the foot of her bed, hackles raised like a cat suddenly caught unawares. A normal person would have screamed, or at least been creeped out. Eve only feels gratitude. She had been half convinced Villanelle really _was_ done with her. 

For an elongated heartbeat, she thinks Villanelle will flee, not expecting to be caught out like this. Eve almost wonders if this isn't the first time she's done this since arriving in London.

Slowly, so as not to startle her further, she props herself up against her pillows. She's vaguely amused to note that Villanelle's taken off her shoes. Eve's not sure if it was done out of a need to be quiet, or because her manners had kicked in. Or a combination.

Villanelle then says two words she never expected to hear come out of her mouth. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” she says after she gets over her shock.

“For treating you that way.”

“Why did you do it then?”

“I had to know if you liked me the way that I liked you.” She pauses as if this next part is the most difficult of all. “Not just in a sex way.”

Eve's breathing is getting difficult to control again. 

“So it was all a ruse? Even sleeping with them?” Villanelle nods. “How did you know I would even come when I did?”

“Because I  _ know _ you.”

_Like us, you mean._

She hasn't forgiven Villanelle exactly, but she's not in the mood to get into this further tonight either. The idea of being the same as Villanelle, or at least similar is still frankly terrifying, but perhaps less so now.

So she settles on, “Are you coming to bed?” 

Villanelle stiffens at that question like she's been hit with that Harry Potter spell that completely immobilizes the fat kid.

But then she practically springs into action, slips under the covers, takes the place that had been occupied by Niko for so many years, and turns to face her, eyes wide and expectant.

She's thought about them being in these positions again many many times since the Paris incident, and most of those times she ended up with blood on her hands. Either because she stabs Villanelle again, or because Villanelle stabs her back.

Eve's pretty sure they're long passed that phase now. Which meant there was only one thing left to do.

“Come here,” she says, opening her arms wide.

Once more, Villanelle looks at her like she's dreaming, and then quickly sinks into her embrace. She supposes she should be more surprised than she is by how fast Villanelle's heart is racing. But she's not because her own is beating just as fast. 

And maybe, just maybe, _this_ is what Villanelle meant all along by giving her everything she wants.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up way fluffier than I was expecting LOL. It was either this or she chops their heads off and displays them in the Shawarma place...so for some strange reason I went with this option...but I have a pretty good idea which one the show is going with...


End file.
